


Free Love

by SanSanFanFan



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Again not Sandor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Joffrey drugs her not Sandor, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral Sex, San Francisco, Smut, The Summer of Love, non-consensual stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 08:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2575571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanSanFanFan/pseuds/SanSanFanFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original prompt from LadyCyprus:</p><p>"Modern AU Hell’s Angel!Sandor meets Flower Child!Sansa in The Haight during the Summer of Love after a Steppenwolf-Jefferson Airplane double bill when Sandor steps in to rescue Sansa from her date- Joffrey- when he makes some unwelcome sexual advances. It’s love at first sight, and a complete counter-culture clash on both sides as opposites attract. Sandor is his best angry raunchy self, and Sansa is all powerfully loving and free spirited. All sorts of fluffy-smutty yumminess ensues."</p><p>Written for the SSFF birthday gift fic doodah:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Free Love

Sansa leant out of the once yellow school bus’s window, letting the fresh sea breeze outside wash over her, breathing it in. She’d never realized before that being a part of a spiritual and sexual revolution meant giving up on bathing entirely. The inside of the repurposed bus was a cacophony of body smells, impromptu bongo and guitar solos, and many, many colours. And after ten hours on the road she really felt that she needed a break. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the people who had picked her and Joffrey up from the side of the highway. In fact some of them were very nice indeed. She liked the immense bald man with the eye of Horus painted on his forehead. 'V' he called himself. He had lots of stories about his life in exotic sounding countries, although she thought he might be making some of that up. The girl with the so pale blonde hair it almost looked white was very sweet, when she wasn’t high and weaving about the bus talking about her dragons. Dani was it? The curvy girl with the flowers in her hair was a friendly face too. Although Sansa had found it difficult not to stare at the girl’s bare breasts as they traded stories about hitch hiking. Sansa was not wearing a bra under her cotton camisole and she felt rather exposed even just doing that. But Joffrey said that bras were a tool of the patriarchy to keep women bound up and enslaved, and he’d insisted that she leave them all behind when they’d snuck through her window just a few nights past and started hitchhiking South to San Francisco.

She felt the red feather earrings fly about her face as her deep red hair streamed out behind her like a banner. She’d wanted to wear the silver wolves her little sister Arya had given her for her last birthday, reminders of the large Alaskan Malamute dogs they had at home on the farm. She’d wanted to bring her dog, Lady, with her on their adventure too, but Joffrey had said that it would be harder to get rides with her tagging along. And Joffrey had said that the red feathers suited her better than the small wolves. Sansa still wasn’t sure that the bright red went well with her hair… but that’s what Joffrey had said.

It had been Joffrey’s idea to travel South for the concert. The Summer of Love was all he had talked about for months, even before they had finally started dating just a few weeks back. He’d shown her cuttings about the ‘hippies’ in San Francisco who were hanging out, dropping out, and starting a new age. It had sounded really exciting and Sansa agreed with much of what they were talking about. Everyone should love each other. Things had to change. Her father had come back from the war, along with Joffrey’s father Robert, and both of them had seemed like broken men. Robert had thrown himself into beer, and gambling… and women if the rumours were true. But her father had become a quieter man, now more often found in the woods about the farm than in Winterfell's town. But Joffrey had said that they were remnants of a decaying order, and that the real power was in the South now, as thousands of young people like them made their pilgrimages to Golden Gate Park. And if they didn’t go soon, they might miss all of it. 

Sansa was brought back from memories by a low growl. It grew and grew in volume until she saw the first of the riders. An immense man leant back on his Harley as he led a pack of Hell’s Angels alongside the school bus. A few of them pointed at the psychedelic colours and images now painted on it and laughed with each other. Sansa had helped them to paint some of it when they’d stopped at the last petrol station. She’d been quite proud of her attempt, but Joffrey had said her style was naïve and unreflexive. Whatever that meant.

She watched the immense man with the grim face pass, his long hair whipping about his head. On the back of his leather jacket he wore a yellow leather square with three black dogs running on it. The rest of the men wore the same device, but none of them were as large and… frankly terrifying… as their leader. A few called out to her, but thankfully the wind whipped their words away. She was just about to pull her head back into the stinking bus when she realised that there was a final rider, some ways back from the main body of the pack. 

He was a large man as well, although not as huge as the leader. Strong, densely haired, arms gripped the handle bars of a beast of a motor cycle. Thick thighs in ripped denim straddled it. Under a sleeveless leather vest with the dog pack running on it she saw that he wore a Steppenwolf t-shirt, dingy and perhaps well loved. Maybe he would be heading to the concert as well… although Sansa was looking forward to seeing Jefferson Airplane more than Steppenwolf. 

Unlike the others who were covered in skulls and naked ladies, this one’s tattoo was a simple thing. On his upper arm was the black paw print of a dog, its claws marked out above the pads. She liked it. But it was forgotten when she finally looked at his face. He wore large dark shades, but they did not entirely cover the red and twisted scars of the right side of his face. Horrific burns. 

The shades turned towards her as he looked up, and even though she could not see his eyes, she felt them on her. She should have ducked back into the bus. Joffrey had said that Hell’s Angels were thugs, criminals… and rapists. But she didn’t. Instead she drifted an arm out of the bus, letting it float on the cushion of air running past them. It was almost as though she was reaching for him…

“What are you doing Sansa?!” 

She darted back in through the window. Joffrey had returned to his seat next to her. And then he was doing that thing again. He was running his fingers over her bare midriff, touching the space between her cotton camisole and the Indian print full length skirt. She supposed she should like it, but something felt… she didn’t know. 

“Nothing! I just needed some fresh air.” 

Joffrey looked at her intently. He was far more attractive than the man on the bike. Well… prettier perhaps. Everyone at school said that Joffrey was a catch. After the war his father had managed somehow to build a business while simultaneously drinking the profits, and Joffrey was popular because he could get people… anything… they wanted.

He held out his hand in a fist. 

“Give me a kiss and I’ll show you what treats I’ve got us.”

She kissed him, letting him shove his tongue in her mouth. Joffrey said that this was how it was done, and he was her first boyfriend so she didn’t really know for sure…

“Good girl. Look!” He opened his hand. In his palm were a few small pills of different colours and shapes. 

“Where… where did you get those?”

He gestured back at the man in the suit. The only man in a suit. “From Petyr. He’s got all sorts of special things in his bags.” 

Sansa looked over at the older man. He had been the only one on the bus that Sansa had not warmed to. She hoped it was not just because he was dressed more conservatively than everyone else heading to San Francisco. She hoped that she was not judging him on his appearance. Joffrey had said that superficial judgements and other hang ups of the old regime like sexism and racism would all be done with once the Age of Aquarius really began. But she couldn’t help the chill that ran through her when he looked at her.

“Let’s take one now!”

“I don’t know…” She really didn’t want to. “Maybe we should wait until we get to the park and the concert starts. That would be the right time, don’t you think?” She smiled sweetly, still hoping that she could find a way to avoid the whole thing.

“God, Sansa, you’re such a square!” He fiddled with the beads and chains at her neck, finding, as he always did, her mother’s tiny cross. “We could take some now, and then more at the concert!”

“I’d rather wait.”

“Oh? Did Jesus tell you should wait for these… as well as for sex?!” 

Sansa blushed deeply. Joffrey had been pushing her since they’d got together at Jeyne’s party. Joffrey said that her virginity was a chain holding her to the patriarchal past and that if she truly believed in love, then she should also believe in free love. She’d protested and told him in an earnest voice that she did believe in it. Truly. But when he tried to get her into the back of his dad’s car… she always said no.

“I’m going to talk to Margaery. She’s a real free spirit!”

He slid away from her and went to sit next to the girl with flowers in her hair. And her breasts out.

Sansa held back tears, looking again through the open window. The highway was empty.

***

The bus was deeply and fatefully stuck in the mud. A few of the men on board had tried to push it clear, but in the end they’d just laughed about it and wandered off through the swarm of people in the park to listen to the concert and make new friends. 

Sansa stepped down from the bus, accepting Joffrey’s offered hand as he helped her over the churned up earth. He was being charming again, having left Margaery once they got closer to San Francisco. Sansa wondered if it wasn’t really because Margaery and the girl who saw dragons when she was high had started gossiping and giggling together. In fact, wasn’t that the two of them over there now, walking hand in hand towards the stage? Sansa put thoughts of Joffrey’s anger aside. They were here, they had made it. And Sansa was going to be watching Jefferson Airplane live, very, very soon!

Sansa followed Joffrey to a small clear space between groups of making out couples, and they sat together, Joff instantly pulling her closer. He could be very sweet sometimes. 

“Here, I got some water for us.” He passed her a stubby little bottle and she drank from it, feeling pleased that he was looking after her.

“When are Jefferson Airplane on?” 

“Oh later…” He seemed distracted, watching her drink from the bottle. She wiped some excess water away from her lips and passed it back to him. “No thanks. I’m okay.”

She nestled against him, feeling the thrill of being here. San Francisco! It certainly beat Winterfell hands down. In fact, the entire state of Westeros was dullsville compared to California to the South. 

The band that were currently playing were new, she thought, maybe a little unpracticed. But the melody was catchy and she started humming, and then singing along. 

“Don’t do that. You know I find it annoying.” Snapped Joffrey, his face looming above hers. “You’re always picking up songs…” His lips were so… wormy. Her fingers drifted up to touch the worms and she giggled. 

“How are you feeling, Sansa?”

“Odd…” Yes, she was feeling odd. There was something odd about everything now that she thought about it. The sky hadn’t been that shade of purple before, had it? She giggled again, picking up the song again but as she hummed along she imagined that there were notes on the ground and she could pick the little black squirmy things with her fingers. She crawled away from Joffrey, snapping her fingertips around the little musical bugs. 

Then she felt Joffrey’s hands on her waist, pulling her to him. His hands where all over her, because he had so many of them. In fact he was entirely made of hands. That made her giggle again, but she thought maybe, actually, she really wanted to be screaming about something. But she wasn’t sure she knew what.

“Do you want to dance Sansa?” He helped her to her feet. “There are other women dancing.” He was right, of course, Joffrey was always right. The other women dancing had their tops off, and some had body paint in elaborate swirls around their breasts. Did they know that it was moving over their bodies like snakes?

“You there.” Joffrey was gesturing to a small man walking past. A dwarf. “Do you want to dance with her?” 

The dwarf was looking her over. “She’s out of it, man.” She laughed, yes, she was out of it, because now she was seeing dwarves. Next she’d be seeing dragons like the girl on the bus!

He left but two men came over to them. “Yeah, we want to dance with her.” 

They were large ugly men with large ugly hands, and she wanted to run but all she could do was dance, dance, dance. The musical notes were slithering through the grass now, black streams of shadow all around her. One of the men was pulling at her top, stripping her.

“No… no…” She mumbled as she still danced. 

“Come on Sansa, don’t be a square!” Snapped Joffrey, watching.

And then he was gone. A large pit had opened up and swallowed Joffrey. Sansa wanted to laugh and scream all at once as the boy fell into the earth. But no, there he was, just lying on the floor with a bloodied nose, not in a pit at all. And the large shadow that fell over them was hitting the other two men in their faces as well, shooting their heads off up to the sun. She felt soft cotton wrapping around her and then she was lifted up so high. Up, up, up… till she thought she would follow after them to the fiery ball in the sky.

The world swayed under her as the dragon carried her away. No not a dragon, she could see its hide in front of her face as her head streamed behind them like a ribbon. Yellow leather with three dogs running. 

“You’re okay now, girl. You’re okay.” She was falling, falling. She landed at the bottom of a tree, the shadow’s hands setting her down and covering her over leaves until she was buried. No, not leaves. A t-shirt. Soft. So soft. She lifted it to her face and rubbed against it.

“Careful, girl. You need to keep that over yourself. They ripped your top.”

They ripped me, she thought. And the separating strands of Sansa Stark fell, drifting to the floor.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re tripping now. But it’s going to be okay.” His voice was deep. Rasping. Like the crinkling of autumn leaves. She looked up at him, and it was like looking into the sun. She shaded her eyes.

“Yeah, I aint pretty. But your pretty boy gave you something I’m guessing you didn’t ask for.” He was crouched down in front of her. She saw a black tattoo on his arm, a dog’s paw print. And then he was a dog, a large tan mastiff, standing guard over her. 

She smiled and patted the big dog on the head. “Good doggy.”

He laughed gruffly, and ran his hands through his long dark hair. “You’re pretty far gone, little bird.”

Yes, she was a bird. Her fingers were red feathers and she could touch the sky…

“Sit down! Here, drink this.” She didn’t want to, twisting her head away from him till he forced her. Joffrey had… Joffrey had… she started crying and the man looked awkward.

“Don’t do that. Don’t do that!” 

She sniffed and nodded, curling into a ball around the t-shirt.

A large hand patted her hair. “It’ll be over soon. I promise, girl.”

***

Sansa woke shivering. A small campfire flickered near her, but the coolness of night was on her bare skin. 

Bare skin?! She sat up quickly, holding the t-shirt to her. 

“Best you put that on now, little bird.” In the shadows of the small fire was a large man. The scarred man from the highway!

She turned away a little and slipped the large t-shirt over her head, and put her arms through the holes. It swamped her, but it was strangely comforting. The man on the other side of the fire nodded. He wore only an armless leather vest, and she realised where the t-shirt had come from.

“Where am I?”

“What do you remember?” 

She searched her mind. There was a confusion of noises, shapes and colours. Even now the darkness was filled with noise and lights in the distance. 

“The park. With Joffrey.”

“Is that the cunt’s name?” The scarred man scoffed.

“He’s… he’s my boyfriend.”

“The shit was passing you around to other men!” 

“No… no, he wouldn’t!” But she knew he was right. She remembered her top tearing…

“Gave you something didn’t he?” The man’s voice was deep, dangerous.

“I saw music…. Crawling music.”

“I bet you did. The fucking shit. I should have done more than break his nose and make him run.” 

She sniffed, trying not to cry. The man looked uncomfortable.

“Don’t do that, girl.”

“He said… he said… it was a revolution!”

The man laughed, cutting it short when he saw her face. “So you’re one of them. I thought so, from the feathers and the beads.”

“One of who?”

“You’re a flower girl.”

“Flower child.” 

“Whatever. Deluded idiots.” He swigged from a bottle and offered it to her. She wrinkled her nose, and he shrugged. 

“You’re here too.”

“My brother brought the pack here because he thought there’d be lots of girls with their tits out.”

Sansa flushed bright red, and the man stumbled over his words. “But… But I like Steppenwolf! I wanted to see them. Not the tits.”

“So you don’t think a revolution’s coming?”

“What? Loving everyone and all that shit. No.”

“It’s not shit!” Sansa shouted. “We should love each other.”

“My brother did this!” He jabbed a finger at his own face. “Should I love him too?”

“But you ride with him…” She whispered, confused.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.” He shrugged. This man was a brute, and... and... an idiot! But he’d helped her. Maybe she could help him, by telling him about the coming new age!

“If we all put aside the things that have kept us down as a civilisation… racism, sexism… if we learn to love each other, we can make a new world. Together.”

He pulled a face, and Sansa tried again. “We’re all brothers and sisters under the skin!” Oh, this was going so badly, she had to make him see. “I’m probably not saying it right... Joffrey says…”

“Joffrey! Joffrey the cunt who drugged you and had men strip you? You want to take advice on love from him? Oh you’ve been brainwashed girl! Bet he had you thinking it was ‘free love’ when he passed you around!”

“Love should be free!”

“Love costs girl! It costs blood, and sweat, and tears! And you have to decide who is worth you spending all that pretty little lot on!”

“No! We can be with any one in an open and free society! I could…. I could love any of the men out there in the park! Or the women!”

“But the important fucking question is… do you want to?!”

“No, that’s not important! The principle remains… I should be free to do it with anyone at any time! Even you!!”

Silence fell between them. 

“Bullshit.” He said finally, quietly.

Then she was doing it, stripping the t-shirt back off and throwing it at him, jutting her chin out as she made her stand. 

“My body, my choice!”

He stared at her for a moment. “You do realise that you are making my buggering argument for me, don’t you?!”

“No… because… because I’m only doing this to make a point.” His eyes were ranging over her. God… did she really want to do this? She sort of thought she… did.

She crawled towards him, very aware of the sway of her breasts as she moved. He was sat crossed legged on the other side of the campfire he’d made them, and she ran her hands over his knees to those strong thighs she’d seen before.

He stayed completely still. So she let her hands run over the crotch of his Levi’s. He was hard there. And it thrilled her.

“This ain’t the kind of game of chicken you should be playing with me, girl.” He warned her in his deep voice, but she did not remove her hand from his hardness.

“Is the big, bad Hell’s Angel scared of a little bird?” She rose up, bringing her face to his. She lay a kiss on that twisted, know all mouth. 

He groaned and then kissed her back. But it wasn’t like Joffrey’s penetrating and violent kisses. This man, this strange man with the scarred face and the dog paw tattoo, was letting her move with him. Almost… teaching her.

“You’ve never done this…” He murmered against her lips. 

“No…” She whispered. And then he pulled away.

“Don’t be a fucking idiot!” He grasped her upper arms. “You can’t give it away to make a bloody point!”

But something was happening to her. Something that had never happened when Joffrey’s fingers had roamed her bare midriff. The midriff she’d only shown because he’d told her what to wear. She was… she was feeling something. Something between her legs. 

“I don’t care about making a point anymore.” She whispered, biting her lip as she looked up at those dark eyes. And then he was kissing her, harder and with a building hunger. 

He eased her back onto the grass, moving over her. Was this it? Was she going to let him do it to her when she’d always held Joffrey back?

But then he was moving down her, pulling at the laces at the top of her silk skirt. “What are you…?”

“Shhh.” He said, his mouth somewhere at her waistband. And then he was pulling it down!

She had a moment of panic as she remembered that she was wearing the underwear with the cutesy bows on them, but that panic was quickly replaced by a melting feeling as the heat of his breath moved over her. Then he was pushing her skirt away and moving her thighs apart. His mouth… was on… on her. Sansa felt the gentle push of his tongue against her and she tensed up. But the persistent run of it over her began to make her relax, and she let out a deep sigh as he lapped at her, the twisted parts of his lips more obvious on that oh so sensitive part of her. A low moan began in her throat and she moved her hands to his long dark hair, revelling in the soft feel of it. 

She’d brought herself to what the magazines were cautiously referred to as the ‘woman’s completion’ on her own before. The locker rooms were where the girls shared the latest hints and tips and whatever naughty books that they could get their hands on. So she’d experimented before, when she’d heard some of the girls after gym saying that the revolution would need women who knew how to love themselves too. But this was nothing like the hesitant explorations she’d attempted under the covers in her bedroom as Arya snored in the next bed over. Something was building like a fire between her legs. And now she could not hold back the moans, which only seemed to spur him on. And then she was trembling as she fell over into a chasm and flew up to the sky all in one go!

She lay there for a moment, her eyes closed as she felt the last of the fire drifting from her, her chest heaving. She looked to him. He had moved away from her, regarding her from the dark with hard to read eyes. Grey eyes. She couldn’t look away from them.

“Isn’t this where you make some smart comment about how naïve I am?” She whispered.

“Just wanted to show you. You can’t give that away for free, little bird.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“The earrings. The feathers.”

“I don’t like them.” She sat up and he passed her his t-shirt again. She drew it over her head. It smelt like him. Leathers. Motor oil. Manly smells she wasn’t familiar with. She took the earrings out and threw them aside. “But I like it when you call me that. So don’t stop.”

“As you wish.” He considered her. This scarred man who’d just made her… who’d brought her to her woman’s completion. And she didn’t even know his name. And he didn’t know hers.

“Where are you from, little bird?”

“North. Winterfell.”

“In Westeros?” 

“Yes. Do you know it?”

“I’m from the same state. I was at least. Been all over.” He drank from his bottle. “Do you want to go home, girl?”

“Could you…?”

“I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“What about your gang?”

“Fuck’em. They’ll head further south for the Winter. Mexico most like. But maybe I fancy seeing some snow this year.” He smiled, and Sansa liked it. 

“Yes, please. I’d like to go home.” 

He nodded. 

“Sandor.” He said simply. 

“Sansa.” She replied, with a warm smile.


End file.
